


Cling to the Feeling

by dearfriendicanfly



Category: Akatsuki no Yona | Yona of the Dawn
Genre: Families of Choice, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, but i never posted it for some reason, but looking back on it now i rlly like it kjdgh, i...... just rlly love them, so time to stop dragging my feet and post it, this was a bday present to lexi from ages ago
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-09
Updated: 2018-08-09
Packaged: 2019-06-24 11:56:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15630216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dearfriendicanfly/pseuds/dearfriendicanfly
Summary: To Zeno, time has long been a stranger. But it always catches up to him in the end. Foundations may crumble and bodies may wither, but he will still be here. How do you find your place in a world that moves on without you?





	Cling to the Feeling

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lucienna](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucienna/gifts).



Some days, Zeno likes to sit back and observe.

Today is one of those days, as Yoon somehow juggles cooking and supervising the camp setup and barking at Hak to _quit_ eyeing the food like that because it won’t do him any good, he isn’t going to get any until it’s done. Everyone insisted Zeno take it easy while he recuperates from his latest… ordeal, and he isn’t about to complain. This far from Hiryuu castle, the regeneration took a great deal out of him. Exhaustion weighs down his body and makes him want to curl up in a sleeping bag and stay there for a year or two.

And that isn’t an exaggeration. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s done it. It’s still kind of hard to adjust to actually having to manage his time.

But for now, he contents himself by nestling himself between the roots of a large, gnarled tree and watching his happy, hungry bunch make themselves at home. Jae-ha is almost a rival for Yoon’s title of mother hen, gently reminding his fellow dragons to stay on task until Hak points out that Jae-ha is spending so much time hovering over everyone else that he still hasn’t finished putting up the tent, to which Jae-ha replies sweetly that he could have it done twice as fast if Hak would lend him his lean, supple strength.

“I’m busy,” Hak shrugs, carefully hanging their supplies from a limb of Zeno’s tree to keep them away from wild animals. But he’s chewing back a smile.

Jae-ha smiles too, but it’s a smile Zeno notices on him too often. A little subdued, a little too casual. He doesn’t try to talk to Hak again.

Before Zeno can dwell too long on why the exchange leaves him feeling strangely sad, Kija catches his eye. A bundle of firewood is tucked neatly into the crook of his right arm, another held easily in the palm of his hand. He sets them down beside Yoon, who pats him on the arm and flashes him a weary smile, and then sets right off to go back and find more.

“Wh- oi, Kija!” Yoon calls. “That’s more than enough, come sit down and don’t strain yourself.”

“But...” Kija glances briefly at the others, still hard at work, but Jae-ha catches him.

“We’re just taking our time because we’re goofing off, Kija,” he says cheerfully, waving him off. “Go ahead and take it easy.”

_Dear Kija_ , Zeno thinks with a small smile, as he watches Kija sit down next to Yoon with his hands folded in his lap and his head bowed timidly. Dear Kija with his kind heart and earnest soul, unwilling to so much as look at the food in Yoon’s pot until everyone else has taken their seats alongside him. Yoon laughs a little, but it’s warm, and Zeno feels a surge of affection and curls more comfortably into his little nook.

He jumps a bit at a gentle touch to his shoulder, looking up to find the Seiryuu’s eyes peering down at him. He relaxes.

“Zeno’s doing just fine!” Zeno says cheerfully, answering the unspoken question. Shin-ah only nods, but Zeno thinks he can spot relief in the slump of his shoulders and cleared brow. Before he goes to Yoon to hand over the basket of herbs he’d gathered for the food, he kneels down next to Zeno and presses something into his hand.

“...Broadleaf?”

Shin-ah nods. “For exhaustion and pain,” he says quietly. “You chew it.”

Zeno smiles, despite a little pang of something unidentifiable in his chest. “No need to worry about me,” he says softly, reaching up to ruffle Shin-ah’s hair. “But thank you.”

Shin-ah looks a little flustered, but not displeased. He stands up, clutching the basket of herbs to his chest, but then stops. He looks at Zeno, and Zeno thinks maybe he wants him to start chewing the broadleaf, but before he can bring it to his lips, Shin-ah reaches out and awkwardly ruffles his hair in return. Before Zeno can so much as blink, he quickly hurries off to Yoon, his face a little red and pinched.

Zeno feels something like a laugh bubbling in his chest and takes the broadleaf before Shin-ah can hear, but he thinks the warmth spreading outward from his chest is probably from something other than the herb.

“Blankets are washed and dried!” Yona calls from behind, rushing back to camp carrying a pile of blankets nearly as big as herself, gods only know what miracle keeping them from all tumbling out of her arms.

“Perfect timing,” Yoon sighs, wiping his hands with a satisfied smile. “Food’s on.”

“Great!” Hak says, with a bowl already full of stew. Yoon looks too tired to tell him off.

Zeno chuckles to himself, until Hak plops down next to him, holding out the steaming bowl. “Do you need help sitting up?”

Zeno blinks, taken aback. “Oh– erm, if it’s not a bother.”

“‘Course not,” Hak says gruffly, but his hand on Zeno’s back is surprisingly gentle as he helps him sit slowly upright, Zeno’s back aching and popping all the while.

“Zeno probably shouldn’t have sat against a tree.”

“Yeah, probably not.”

But Hak laughs a little, gravelly and kind.

“Do you need help eating?” Kija asks mildly, sitting down across from Hak as Zeno takes his bowl.

“What, are you gonna feed him like a baby, white snake?”

Kija turns red, but sets his jaw stubbornly. “If that’s what he needs, then yes!”

“This blanket is a little grimy,” Jae-ha muses, scratching his chin. “Yona dear, can you bring us one of the washed blankets?”

“Of course!” Yona says, trying heroically to peer at them from behind the massive pile still in her arms.

“Shouldn’t you help her?” Kija scolds.

“She never lets me!”

“For good reason, droopy eyes.”

Shin-ah says nothing, but sits down next to Zeno and pats his hair supportively.

“Oi, oi!” Yoon hollers, exasperated. “He’s not an invalid, you know! Give him a little space and let him eat his dinner, you damn rowdy beasts.”

The little bunch disperses sheepishly as Yoon hurries over to try to take half of Yona’s blankets and help her distribute them, and Zeno watches them with faraway eyes. They laugh, they jibe, they eat.

He looks down at his own food, still piping hot. The smell is heavenly, as it always is with Yoon’s cooking. He takes a bite. It tastes heavenly, too.

And once everyone finishes their meal and Zeno is tucked snugly in a clean blanket between Jae-ha and Shin-ah, it still feels heavenly as he drifts off to sleep.

* * *

The entire world goes slow.

Zeno has to fight for every movement, as if he’s swimming through molasses. His feet drag the ground like lead weights, his arms shoving their way through the air without the speed to match their force.

He can hear them, distantly, like an underwater echo of his name.

He can’t make out where it’s coming from in the pitch darkness, only that they sound far away. Panic weighs on his chest. He cries out to them, trying to let them know where he is, but he can’t reach them. There’s not enough time.

_“You had plenty of time.”_

The whisper comes from somewhere behind him, right in his ear, someone’s breath hot on the back of his neck. He tries to whirl around, terrified, but his movements are still painfully sluggish.

_“All the time in the world.”_

The distant voices have suddenly changed their tone, their pitch rising to a horrific crescendo as they scream his name in agony, distorted and echoing and coming from everywhere at once. He tries to look for them, to turn his head and find them, to run to them. But he loses his balance trying to fight against his own sluggishness and trips, falling on all fours.

_“How much longer until they run out of time, Zeno?”_

He clutches his head, breathing hard and fast as the voices keep on repeating his name over and over, pleading with him like a hand clutching madly at the empty air.

_Zeno! Zeno! Zeno, come see me, won’t you? Come home, won’t you? Remember me, won’t you? Promise me, won’t you?_

_Zeno? Zeno?_

“Zeno!”

And suddenly he’s not so sluggish anymore, bolting upright, clutching at his chest. A pair of gentle hands keep him from leaping up in his panic, holding him by the shoulders. It’s dark, but Zeno thinks he sees Jae-ha’s eyes in front of him, glinting violet.

Zeno’s breathing slows.

“Are you all right?” Jae-ha whispers, although Zeno isn’t sure why he’s keeping his voice so low. A glance around the tent shows three more upright silhouettes.

“Z...Zeno’s fine,” he says shakily, trying to muster a smile – a bit pointless in the dark. “Just had a nasty dream about Pukyuu stealing Zeno’s dinner.”

The joke doesn’t get a laugh out of Jae-ha. He lets go of Zeno’s shoulders, sitting back down in his blanket and leaning forward with his head in his hands. A breath leaks out of him slowly, like a punctured balloon. “You gave me a real turn,” he says weakly. “Thrashing around like that… Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Mmhmm!” Zeno quickly curls himself back into his blanket, trying to hide the sound of his attempts at evening his breathing. “No need to worry, Zeno’s going back to sleep.” He says it loud enough for the others to hear.

There’s a pause, after which he can hear everyone reluctantly lying back down. But he thinks he can feel the Seiryuu’s eyes on him as he finally drifts back into an uneasy sleep.

The next morning, he wakes up to find Shin-ah holding his hand in his sleep. If he dreamt about anything this time, he can’t remember what it was.

* * *

“Zeno, could you come help me with the washing?”

Yona’s hand is light on his arm, her expression casual, but Zeno can guess why she’s asking.

“Of course, miss!” he smiles, crinkling his eyes and hoping it’ll hide the dark circles underneath.

“Wonderful! Thank you,” she sighs, relieved. “I thought I could handle it on my own, but some of these stains are taking ages to get out and at this rate, I’ll be here all day.”

“Fear not, the Ouryuu’s true power is stain removal!”

Yona laughs at that, clear and bright. The sound brings a strange ache to Zeno’s heart.

“The lady from the wind tribe who taught me how to do this said that the washing was her favorite chore,” Yona says later, her arms elbow-deep in frigid river water. “Especially when she saved it for the end of the day. She said it felt renewing, like the river was washing _you_ clean, too.”

“Mm,” Zeno hums, scrubbing at a particularly tough stain. “It feels good once everything is clean.”

“Sometimes I like to imagine myself floating down the river,” Yona giggles, wringing out a towel. “Like it’ll carry me back to the wind tribe and surprise whoever’s doing the washing.”

“That’d be quite the shock!” Zeno laughs.

“Right?” she grins. But then her grin fades a little, into something gentler and more searching. “...If the river could carry you somewhere, where would you want to go?”

The question doesn’t exactly catch him off guard. After all, he’s known Yona for too long not to know that she would pick up on his troubles. But what startles him is that he doesn’t have an answer.

To Hiryuu? To his brothers? To Kaya? Can he really say he would want to go there again?

“...I don’t know,” he says softly, staring at his bloodstained tunic in the water. “There... aren’t a lot of places Zeno has called home. Most of them are gone now.”

_And if they aren’t, they will be someday. And I’ll still be here._

Yona is quiet for a while, her expression clouded as she wrings out her towel. And then, suddenly, she reaches over and takes the tunic from Zeno and hands him a different one.

“There are a lot of things I don’t know,” she murmurs, scrubbing at the bloodstain. “Especially compared to someone like you. I’m sure you know a lot more about just about everything than I do.”

Zeno smiles wryly.

_Doubtful_.

“But I’ve been thinking a lot about home lately, with everything that’s happened.” She sticks her tongue out a little between her teeth, frowning as she really scrubs at the spot. “About what makes a place home, or who, or when it stops being home. And in the end, you know what I decided? It’s completely useless to try to think about it! Gave me endless headaches.”

Zeno laughs a little in spite of himself. “Then the miss doesn’t know how to call a place home, either?”

“Not really,” Yona sighs. “But I know when I _feel_ at home, and I want to cling to that. I think it’s probably the most anyone can do.”

Zeno’s expression softens. “Aye,” he says gently, “maybe so…”

“And when I feel at home,” Yona continues, scooching closer to Zeno’s side and smiling, “is when I’m with all of you.”

A lump suddenly rises in Zeno’s throat. He wants to return the sentiment, but something stops him.

“...And does the miss ever miss her old home, even though she knows she can’t go back to it?”

Yona reaches out as if to touch his shoulder, but then remembers that her hands are soaked with frigid river water and thinks better of it. “‘Course I do,” she says gently. “But I can always go back there, you know. At least, to the most important part of it.” She points at her heart. “I carry it around in here.”

Zeno chews on that for a moment, trying to ignore the tightness in his chest and remember how to form his mouth into words. When he does, what comes out is, “Going for the cliche, are we, miss?”

Yona laughs at that, genuinely. Loudly. “See, I told you you know more about these things than me!” she cries, flicking cold water at Zeno. “Just for that, you can finish up these last couple towels on your own!”

“Noooooo!” Zeno hollers, laughing too in spite of himself. “Zeno meant it in a good way, miss! Zeno’s old! Old people love cliches!”

“Too late!” Yona pouts, picking up the damp washing to carry it over to the clothesline back in the trees. “You’ve made your bed, now lie in it!”

“So cruel,” Zeno whines, returning her pout tenfold. But the weight in the pit of his chest has lessened somewhat, he thinks.

“Jeez,” Yona murmurs under her breath, hanging up Zeno’s bloodstained tunic. “I couldn’t get it all out, huh… but at least it looks a little cleaner.”

* * *

It’s all different.

They’re so similar, but it’s not quite the same.

Shin-ah is kind at heart, quietly loyal. But everything about him is quiet, unlike Abi. There’s no biting remarks, no sharpness to his face. He’s gentle and clear, like the sound of bells.

Kija is earnest and loud, endearingly stubborn about his convictions. Everything about him is endearing. He’s a rare kind of person, the kind that you love immediately and only grow fonder as time goes on. There’s nothing gruff about him, no heavy handed slaps on the back and no harsh thunderclap of a laugh like Guen’s. His grace comes from a different, heavier kind of dignity.

Jae-ha is gentle – a teasing, perhaps condescending person, but a soothing one as well. They call him an older brother, and he fits the part to a tee. But there’s a yearning, a nervous need for freedom that he pushes to the back of his mind for the sake of the group. Shuten was never so dishonest. He always made it clear that his bond with his brothers was _his_ and his alone. Jae-ha is uncertain, and yet he stays. Loves them anyway.

Zeno is uncertain, too.

Because _she’s_ nothing like him – Hiryuu, with his quiet suffering and the secrets he took to his grave. She leans on them as much as they lean on her. She wants to live. She has something that burns in her like a hearth. She laughs out loud.

It makes him wonder if he ever really understood his king. Granted, two thousand years is a long time to try to remember. But he can remember the others as clear as if they were standing next to him now – Guen, Shuten, Abi, the ones who made that castle a home. Kaya, who made the rest of the world feel like it could be a home for a few blessed months.

But maybe that home isn’t gone.

_I carry it around in here._

If she can do it, can’t he?

And maybe different isn’t a bad thing, he thinks, watching the usual dinner proceedings unfold again like clockwork – Yoon fighting off Hak’s sticky fingers, Jae-ha making some remark about a better use for said fingers, Hak nearly stabbing Jae-ha. Kija doing his best to help Shin-ah prepare herbs for the meal. Yona coming back with two newly shot birds and a triumphant smile on her grimy face.

He wonders how many more times he’ll be able to watch their little routine before time runs out.

But until then, he closes his eyes and takes a breath. Remembers the feeling of home. The smell of Yoon’s cooking, the feeling of Kija and Shin-ah’s shoulders jostled against his as they crowd around the fire, Hak and Jae-ha’s bickering, Yona’s clear, sharp laugh.

He decides to cling to the feeling. It’s all anyone can do.

**Author's Note:**

> a belated happy birthday to my dear friend lexi, who got me into akayona and who i wrote this for months ago and then just?? didn't post it bc im a fool skjdgkhf ilu lexi <3
> 
> as always, kudos and comments are appreciated more than words can say!!


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